I'll be home for Christmas 5  Garrison
by Kaglen
Summary: The fifth and final short story Lt Garrison Christmas 1944.


Craig Garrison drifted between the conscious and unconscious world, a world where time and space lost their parameters and where dreams and reality merged. The struggle to full consciousness continued to defeat him but he had achieved a certain level of perception. He knew that he was no longer lying in a rock-strewn gully, cold and soaked to the skin. Wherever he was now, it was comfortable, warm and dry. However, the intense pain in his head as he tried to break through to the surface of complete awareness made him content to sink back into the depths of oblivion again and the music was very restful. Music?

'In the Bleak Midwinter', it was a familiar tune. 'Bleak?' 'Midwinter?' The Belgian Ardennes, that's where he had been before coming here. It was bleak; it was mid-winter, snowing and bitterly cold. There had been a bombardment, shelling, a German attack; unexpected and hard to believe when the Allies had been back on mainland Europe for six months. Could there be a successful counter offensive by the enemy now? The barrage had been heavy, prolonged and accurate. He had taken shelter in the gully with – with whom? The names, the faces and then the thought escaped.

'In the Bleak Midwinter', he'd always thought of it as such an 'English' Carol. He knew it was one of Beth's favourites, she'd told him so last year when they had spent three precious hours together just before Christmas. He could remember those snatched moments with her so well but not the events that had brought him to this place. Would he ever see Beth again? Touch her? Hold her? He tried to climb out of the void, he had to get out, a murmured groan of frustration escaped him when, once again, he failed to achieve his goal.

There were voices in the background now. Feminine voices, soft and quiet, calm and soothing but the words floated away before he could catch them. Gentle fingers held his wrist, cool hands touched his forehead, comforting and reassuring. He was content to return to the tranquillity of the darkness.

Time passed but how long? Garrison lay still, aware of his own breathing, aware now of only a dull ache in his head instead of the piercing pains that had been there before. This time he managed to break through to the surface and open his eyes. He learnt immediately not to move his head too quickly as waves of nausea washed over him. He tried to focus on something, anything that would give him perspective and stop the room spinning. The blurred shapes sharpened very slowly; he was, without doubt, in a hospital, but where was the hospital? He scanned the room slowly looking for clues, there were none. His watch had been removed and he wondered what time it was, he turned to the window, it was daylight, probably late afternoon. He lay still and watched the shadows lengthen and the light fade away as the evening star rose to a point low on the horizon. Frost was already forming in the corners of the windowpanes, he shuddered at a sudden memory of bitter cold, gore and blood stained snow but how long ago? Returning to the relative safety of the present he could imagine the glittering ice crystals covering the outside world and in the distance he was sure he could hear music.

'Stille Nacht Heilige Nacht'. He leaned back against the pillow with a sigh of resignation; a wry smile crossed his lips. They were some of the first words he had been taught in German as a boy in Pennsylvania and he had continued to study the language into adulthood. This knowledge helped towards his selection for OSS and for missions behind enemy lines in Europe. It would be ironic if this simple Carol had ultimately brought him to captivity in Germany. He tried to sit up to look around the room again; there wasn't even a book or sign to give indication of his whereabouts. He knew he was too weak and nauseous to risk getting out of bed, but he was sure he would know his fate soon enough.

A nurse came into the darkened room; her uniform rustled with starch as she passed the bottom of the bed, closed the heavy blackout curtains and ensured the window was completely obscured. Garrison heard rather than saw her as she moved back towards him he dare not speak. Was this young woman also his warder?

The nurse turned the bedside lamp away from her patient to avoid dazzling him should he be awake. She then switched on the lamp and smiled as she met his tired but steady gaze. Her practiced eye took in the pallor and fatigue but the most important thing was that he was conscious. She laid her palm against his forehead; the dark blond hair was slightly damp, she began to take his pulse. His blue-green eyes were wary as he watched her routine.

"Hello Lieutenant. Nice to have you back." Her accent was so unmistakeably English Garrison felt the tension rush from his body and relief wash back over him as she continued. "You are in hospital quite close to Oxford. You have severe concussion a number cuts and bruises but otherwise no major injuries." She busied herself tidying the bedclothes. "We've been looking after you here for a few days. Now I am sure you must be thirsty, would you like some water?"

The American nodded, he didn't trust his voice but he wasn't sure whether that was due to the dryness of his throat or to the emotion of knowing he was safe and back in England. At some point he would ask her how she knew his rank and how he had got there but in that moment it didn't matter.

"Not too much, just a sip," she cautioned as she handed him a small glass of water, "but if you feel up to it you may be able to have a cup of tea later."

The Lieutenant smiled to himself. The English obsession with tea as a cure all, comfort or social event, proof indeed he was home. Home? When had England become 'home'? He knew exactly. Since he had met and fallen in love with Beth, because she was here and had captured his heart. His eyes and features softened as he thought of her; somehow he would get word out to let her know that he was safe.

He had been away for two months, probably posted as 'Missing in Action' until Actor and the rest of his men had arrived in Belgium. 'Actor', of course! It was Actor who had been in that icy gully with him. How had they managed to find him? He had become separated from them on a mission weeks ago and had been trying to get back ever since. How had they got caught up in the battle in the Ardennes? There were so many questions he needed to ask. He shook his head in bewilderment and regretted the action straight away.

He became aware of a light touch on his forearm.

"Are you alright Lieutenant?" There was concern in the nurse's voice. The officer dragged his attention back into the room.

"I'm fine. Thank you." His voice was husky despite the water.

Garrison tried to gather his thoughts and once again heard music. It was much louder than before, more distinct and coming his way and then a group of nurses passed along the corridor outside his room singing. He listened to the tune as they continued, "Silent Night, Holy Night." The words were in English, just as they had been before. What had made him think otherwise, expectation, imagination or pure exhaustion?

"What's happening?" He asked.

"Oh! It's a long held tradition here. On Christmas Day, the nurses sing Carols on the wards."

"Christmas Day?" He repeated. A slight frown furrowed his brow for a moment, how many days had he lost? He cleared the question and the frown. Time enough to find out later.

"Yes. I should have told you straight away." They listened in silence for a few minutes to the simple but very beautiful Carol, and as the final notes faded away there was a moment of stillness as each remained lost in their own thoughts. The nurse was first to move. "I'll go and see about that tea. You are not to get out of bed. You must stay where you are and rest." She made her way towards the door, paused and then turned. "Oh Lieutenant, there is one more thing."

Garrison looked up at her expecting even more instructions but she was smiling again.

"Merry Christmas."


End file.
